Under the Influence
by Akai-Kurenai
Summary: Bobby decides to spend Christmas alone on Second Earth, but he receives the surprise of his lifetime. OOC, AUcrackish. Rated T for language and slight mention of alcohol. The ending will be very weird...


**As I promised. It's kinda crappy and short, but all my other fic ideas are too long or too unorganized as of the moment to complete within the year.**

**Warning: Characters will be OOC because this fic is AU-ish.**

**Disclaimer: All characters in this fic and the series they belong to belong to their respective creators, not me. The only thing I am doing is temporarily borrowing them so my sugar rush ideas can be satisfied.**

* * *

Bobby sat down. He was in a modest restaurant in a more secluded part of Brooklyn, alone. Why? Mark and Courtney didn't know he was home. Usually, Bobby would've immediately told his friends if he returned to Second Earth (especially this close to the season), but today he wanted to quietly enjoy what little peace and freedom he had. 

The restaurant he was in was called something he couldn't quite recall (he really didn't pay attention to the sign in the front – he had merely walked in at random), but he could see that it was not that bad of an eatery, with waiters and waitresses clad in black and white outfits scurrying around. Several of them were expertly holding multiple dishes at once, while others were frantically trying to recall the large order their customer had placed. The lights were dimmed to show off the hastily put up Christmas lights, and featured a spotlighted platform where a singer, comedian, or other entertainers would perform.

Bobby yawned, and lounged back in his red cushioned chair. He waited until the waitress arrived at his table, and then ordered a plate of spaghetti without meatballs and some salad. The waitress (whose name tag read "Maria", Bobby noted off-handedly) tried to convince him that he should "really try today's special, sir – our steaks are the finest you'll find in this part of town," but he refused. After what he'd been through, Bobby wasn't particularly interested in eating a large quantity of meat anytime soon.

A round of applause signaled that a performer was coming up. Bobby's attention turned to the person in question. He was a rather tall man with white blond hair, round black sunglasses, and a five o' clock shadow, and was probably a singer or musician due to the fact that he had a guitar case with him. The man, who was introduced as Samuel DeCruz, appeared to have abnormally pale skin, but that could've just been the fact that he was wearing a striped lime-colored shirt.

He took off his matching hat and sat down on the stool in front of the microphone. After tuning his guitar, he started to sing in a rich, husky tone:

"Everybody knows

A turkey and fresh mistletoe

Help make dinner taste right…"

Bobby turned away, disinterested. Maria, the waitress, appeared shortly afterwards to deliver his meal to him, which he responded to with a polite thank you. After a few bites of his salad, Bobby quickly spat out the contents and pushed the plate away in disgust, having discovered that the leaves were wilted. He quickly gulped down a glass of cider Maria had poured for him earlier, and then tentatively nibbled on some spaghetti.

Bobby let out a sigh of relief. At least that dish wasn't ruined.

He turned his attention back to DeCruz, who was supposedly singing an abridged version of some song that Bobby didn't catch the title of.

DeCruz smiled slightly as his voice echoed around the room. After listening casually to the lyrics, Bobby stiffened and stared at the singer. He then looked around the room. Nothing looked out of place – the guests were idly chatting and the waiters were still frantically hurrying around. Forgetting about his half-finished dinner, he quickly stood up and walked towards the stage.

"If there's one thing I can't stand

It's the country of Iceland

The misnomer is so annooooy-ing

And th –"

Whack!

DeCruz was pulled quickly backstage. Feedback. Some backstage yells were heard. It seemed that a scuffle had broken out.

The audience sweatdropped.

"What is the meaning of this?!"

DeCruz held a hand up to his bruised jaw as he stared up from the ground at Bobby.

Bobby stared at him harshly. "I know who you are, so you might as well show yourself. No one's around. Well, at least no one in their right state of mind thanks to you."

DeCruz's face twisted into a malevolent smirk, and transformed into his usual form – Saint Dane. "What was your first clue?" He leered at Bobby.

_This feels familiar…but why? Was it something he said? _Bobby mentally shook himself back to the present dilemma.

"The lyrics you were singing, and the fact that no one but me noticed. Messing up a Christmas song…you really don't know this territory, do you?" Bobby retorted. He was then hit with a wave of nostalgia.

_Now I know…those were almost the same words Uncle Press had used when I first encountered Saint Dane._

Evidently, Saint Dane knew this, too.

He put on a fake thinking pose as he sarcastically said, "Why I am feeling such strong déjà vu?" Saint Dane chuckled. "Oh, my." He shook his head. "I do believe that those were nearly the exact words Press had said to me that time. Like uncle, like nephew. But wait," He grinned evilly. "Press wasn't your real uncle, was he?"

Bobby shook with contained anger as he forced out, "Blood does not make family ties. A cold-hearted bastard like you wouldn't know anything about that."

Saint Dane hissed. Bobby continued.

"You would know nothing about love, either. A holiday like Christmas would be far out of your reach. Maybe that's why you grew so evil." Saint Dane's eyes widened. His face contorted as he rose up in anger.

"Pendragon…you'll regret saying that when this is over…" Saint Dane let out a snarl as he grabbed Bobby around the waist. Bobby struggled, but gave up and prepared himself…

* * *

"What do you want for Christmas, Bobby?" 

Bobby blinked. Evidently, he was sitting on Saint Dane's lap. They were still backstage, but Saint Dane had pulled out a big chair out of nowhere, sat himself down on it, and plooped Bobby into his lap.

Bewildered, Bobby only managed to splutter out a "W-w-what?" Saint Dane let out a comical sigh.

"Pendragon, do you need a hearing aid for the holidays, too?"

"I heard what you said, but…" Bobby let his voice trail off.

Saint Dane let out a laugh. "It's the holidays, Pendragon. I can kill you off tomorrow, but because it's your territory's special day, I'll let you off." His laugh then transformed into a passable "ho ho ho".

"Uh…can you stop trying to destroy Halla?" Bobby asked hopefully.

"No!"

_Thought so, _Bobby thought with a sigh. Saint Dane pushed Bobby off his lap and threw a lump of coal at him.

"Wrong answer! You're on the naughty list now!" Saint Dane laughed evilly and screeched, "Happy holidays from jolly old Saint Dane! Screw Santa!" into the distance and ran off.

Bobby sweatdropped. After staring weirdly at his nemesis for a while, he decided to try and forget the incident. He walked around and sat back down at his table. He reached for his dish, but it was gone. In its place was his bill.

"Damn that man!" Bobby groaned in frustration as his stomach rumbled. "'What do you want for Christmas?' my ass!"

* * *

A slam was heard as a door was awkwardly kicked shut by a young lady. She half supported and half dragged a man up to a bed in the adjacent room and carefully laid him there. She then collapsed onto the bed, clutching at her sides. 

After catching her breath, she wheezed, "I told you not to…drink so much…what was it called…eggknock…no, eggnog…especially when you started…drinking the alcoholic version…" The man groaned as he tried to sit up and failed miserably.

"Nevva…" Saint Dane's speech was slurred, and there was a strong smell of alcohol on his breath. "I gotta hell of a hangover ri' now…d'you know what I've been doing t'day?"

Nevva rolled her eyes. "Goodness knows, you were so drunk, you could've been streaking across the town square and you wouldn't have remembered a thing."

Saint Dane groaned again. "Wasn't Pendragon somewhere around this place?"

Nevva shrugged. "No idea. You just lurched off somewhere, acting like you were…what's the word...stoned."

Saint Dane let out a third groan as he mumbled something about the eggnog coming back up as he stumbled towards the bathroom.

"…and that's why you need to watch your intake of alcohol." Pein clicked a button and the movie projector was turned off. The members of the Akatsuki squinted and blinked as the lights were turned back on. Due to the fact that the holidays were drawing near, the Akatsuki were watching a short film on topics concerning being safe: driving safely, shopping discreetly, and watching their alcohol intake.

Konan continued the lecture. "Even though we're supposed to be an evil organization and break the rules and stuff, there's a limit to what you should do."

Itachi added, "By the way, the events in the movie were fictitious. Let us hope that it really does not happen."

The organization all nodded in agreement, and then retired to bed.

Somewhere far away, Saint Dane put down the glass of eggnog he was about to drink. "Why do I get the feeling that something bad is going to happen…?"

* * *

**I think a lot of people are going to think I was high or something because the story changed so suddenly. Feel free to leave a review telling me to rewrite it or to point out any errors you find, whether you liked it or not. I want to know your opinion so I can make my next fanfiction to your liking.**


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